


the weakest of forces (keep me tied to you)

by seemingly_sanguine



Category: The Half of It (2020)
Genre: Ellie's a famous songwriter and Aster's a rising artist post-movie! AU, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Religious Guilt, Slow Burn, a few years...make it a few more for the angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seemingly_sanguine/pseuds/seemingly_sanguine
Summary: “You know Ellie’s been hired by a huge record label in New York?” Paul tells her one day, and she can’t help but feel her heart sink at the news.Aster’s happy for her. She really is. But she’s now concluded that a few years now might mean never.---For years, Aster’s asked God to show her at least a glimpse of what lies in her future. She spends long nights even pleading to him to give her a sign. But she should’ve known from the start that she shouldn’t bargain with God.Call it destiny, call it fate, or call it even karama—but Aster definitely got damn more than what she asked for, and she’s not sure what to do about it.
Relationships: Aster Flores & Paul Munsky, Ellie Chu & Aster Flores & Paul Munsky, Ellie Chu & Paul Munsky, Ellie Chu/Aster Flores
Comments: 27
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

Her father most certainly did not believe in luck or any other superstitions. He was a non-believer in a lot of things. All except the Church, of course. 

In fact, his most dramatic sermons were not on Satan, but rather on the concept of destiny and fate. He had paced across the front of the church’s sanctuary almost frantically, tossing his arms about in an exasperated manner to state that “fatalism was not a biblical concept.” Man was said to be born to a destiny of destruction if they chose to reject the callings of God and dictate their own. 

She found that his fiery gaze was pierced towards her through the crowds of townspeople a little too much one Sunday morning, almost as if the sermon was an encoded message for her. Could he be speaking about her broken engagement with Trig? Was that supposed to be her actual destiny? Or was he talking about the Heathen whose tunes no longer accompanied their weekly hymns? She never knew. They never talked about that particular sermon afterwards and simply headed back home in their usual awkward silence. 

But Aster found herself thinking about it a lot lately. 

Aster knew the Bible’s numerous parables of destiny like the back of her hand, the most favorite of hers being the story of Jonah and the whale. Jonah had spent three days inside of a whale after he attempted to flee away from God’s calling to save the “wicked people” in the city of Nineveh. He had escaped because he didn’t believe he could handle such a large task that would allow him to achieve greatness, but at what price? His life would now be inspected under a microscope where each action, whether it was intentional or not, would have numerous critiques attached to it. Would this be worth it?

Aster often thought about what Jonah reflected upon as he sat inside of the whale for three days. This fear of meeting up to his true purpose was something that dictated Jonah for so long until God provided a direct answer towards his true purpose in life. And now, this fatal experience had completely changed his perspective entirely and allowed him to live his life happily ever after without a complaint in the world. 

In real life, not many people are provided with this literal message of finding their passions and possibilities that will allow them to achieve greatness. Sure, we experience the same initial dilemma as Jonah, but it’s a never ending battle against the desire of conformity and individuality that often remains unanswered, and sometimes unaccomplished. This neurosis makes us not fear  _ fear  _ itself, but rather have the fear of accomplishing something great. Standing out, being something different. Being  _ you _ at your most raw state. 

Sometimes, Aster thinks about whether her life in Squahamish was one long wait inside of her own metaphorical whale, patiently hoping that someday she would be provided a route of escape towards her highest possibilities. She’d often pray to God that he would show her at least a glimpse of what she could do in the future, and in these spiritual conversations, she couldn’t help but have a pair of inquisitive and understanding hazel eyes in the back of her mind. 

She wouldn’t admit it, but she could still feel the remains of the soft lips pressed upon hers that late summer day. The reimagined rush of emotion that could be felt coursing behind them, filled with the surging tide of desire and longing. Aster had attempted to part her lips in hopes to relish this feeling, but all parts of the rest of her body didn’t seem to be synchronizing with her head. Hell, she could hardly focus on the intensifying flutter at the bottom of her stomach when Ellie’s calloused hands had gingerly curled around her cheek. All forces of nature seemed to invade her senses and make Aster instantly succumb into the claim of Ellie Chu.

Behind the letter, Ellie Chu was the one that understood her. She had helped Aster rediscover her passion for art, which she had never taken seriously before. She was the conductor of this repressed rawness that Aster both relished but also grew to be more terrified of as their conversations progressed. To share these intimate parts of herself that no one knew felt so intoxicating but refreshing to do at the same time. But through Ellie’s confession in the church, these feelings churn into a great mixture that she cannot decipher as easily. This kiss doesn’t speed up the process, either. 

The muffled final words of promise from Ellie brought Aster out of the powerful oceanic waves that would tend to push and retract against the natural yet unsafe attraction between the two girls. Leaning against her Ford Fiesta, she had watched Ellie’s silhouette slowly disappear on Squahamish’s narrow roads as the single speed bike peddled away. For hours on end, it still wasn’t clear to Aster whether it was a dream or a real moment in life, but one thing was sure: she was now absolutely entranced by the existence of Ellie Chu, a girl that never stood in the spotlight but still boldly stood her ground if provided the chance. 

But she feels guilty. This all doesn’t feel right. 

Like the constant looming figure her father has been for most of Aster’s life, from being one of her high school’s teachers to make sure Aster “behaves appropriately” at school to setting a strict curfew every night, the words of her father demonizing homosexual relations produce long nights with Aster laying wide awake. She feels convicted that this one occasion where she decides to break all rules, both of her father and ones that she’s set herself, explodes into a total ruination. Paul’s words that provided Aster a strange feeling of comfort came from Ellie all along, a mysterious person that Aster’s always observed in the background of her life.  _ A girl.  _

She spends her time reflecting on the words of preachers during church retreats as she angrily paints her feelings away. Aster remembers the rare occasion when homosexuality was brought up by a peer during a Q&A session. 

“A relationship with a man and woman is a relationship created by God. But we must not attack these individuals who find attraction in the other sex.” the speaker said, and Aster remembers the way her heart suddenly lifted in anticipation, hoping that he might say something that might provide some solace to her inner conflict. All eyes waited for the man to finish the open statement, feeling an impending conclusion float above them, as if debating where to land. 

She waited, only to have her hope crushed instantly. 

“We must simply coexist with them. They are sinners, nonetheless, but we must continue to live out God’s plan in the way it is desired.” he said. Aster doesn’t recall what else he said after that, because her mind began to wash out the man’s words from her ears, no longer finding what he has to say interesting. 

It makes Aster nauseous thinking about it. The logic just doesn’t make sense. 

How can you coexist with these “sinners” if you also feel like one with these attractions? Do you then live the rest of your life, knowing you’re doing something that is wrong?

Maybe Ellie would know what—

_ No _ , Aster thinks while angrily finishing the last bits of her midnight art pieces. She ends up ruining the center of the painting by pressing too much black into the center of the portrait’s eye. It ruins the aesthetic of the piece, creating a murky look in the orbs that is asymmetrical to the other side of the figure’s face, and she lets out an exasperated groan. Fingers calloused from the long hours of exertion, Aster ends up tossing the canvas into her garbage bin because the thought of keeping a ruined art piece destroys her. 

She doesn’t need to be reminded of her mistakes. Aster shouldn’t be thinking about her. 

Despite her valiant efforts, the thought of Ellie Chu remains in the back of her mind for years, even during art school. Aster attempts at relationships here and there, but it never works out. She dates boys, but they all still resemble the narcissistic attitude of Trig as if she was a prize they had won. Unlike before, she doesn’t hesitate to drop them this time.

Without the presence of her father, she slips through the cracks of her father’s stonehard, conservative barriers. Aster’s trying to be different like she had promised Ellie she’d be sure of years ago. She’s still not able to admit this to her family when she comes home during her breaks (and still feels the guilt consuming her from the inside), but she’s getting there. Aster remembers slipping into a college party near midterms during her junior year, and catches the eye of a girl in her Design and Applied Arts class. 

The girl—Jaszim—and Aster talk for hours on the balcony of the dorm room, shoulders brushing against one another as they watch the sunrise in early dawn. They edge closer and closer to one another, until she can feel the hot breath of Jaszim’s voice tickling her cheek. 

“I would really like to kiss you.” Jaszim says with a hushed tone, eyes concentrated on Aster’s lips. Aster’s heart beats loudly in her chest. 

Aster thinks about what Ellie said about risking it all in hopes of a better outcome, being her most raw self possible, and decides to take that leap. 

“There’s nothing stopping you.” Aster retorts back, and leans forward to connect her lips with Jaszim’s. 

Jaszim kisses her with a softness that swallows Aster whole, the taste of vodka and kool aid tainting the inside of her mouth. Ellie tasted like cherry. 

Jaszim understands the slow pace, secrecy, and hesitancy when it comes to the two of them. Aster loves her for it. She feels as if she’s been finally allowed to grow beneath the constricting boundaries she’s been shackled to. It feels as if a promise for a new dawn is held close to Aster in Jaszim’s protective arms, and she trembles at this unfamiliar desire. She wants more. 

However, they don’t last long. There was no bad blood between the two of them: they simply drifted apart as they edged towards college graduation, and believed it was the best to go their different ways. It leaves a bittersweet taste in her mouth. 

One night, she tells God that she’s tired. Of everything. She’s tired of blindlessly hoping that she’s going to one day discover who she is, of her father constantly getting on her back about everything she’s done despite the achievements she pulled through those long hours, of the prayers that seem to be answered only to the arrogant pricks who seem to shove the their wealth into Aster’s face. 

She just asks for God to provide her a route of freedom.  _ Please _ . 

God doesn’t respond, as per usual, but something feels different after that day. 

…

Ellie was a hidden treasure. A rarity that Squahamish was aware of, but rather than embracing it, had prompted it to push itself further away east. 

“You know she’s been hired by a huge record label in New York?” Paul tells her one day as they sit in Squahamish’s local park, watching kids play soccer in the far end of the field and relishing the silence between them. “They caught onto her songwriting collabs with other artists in Miami and on YouTube so they asked if she could work with them for a bit. She’s been super pumped about it. I talked about it with her yesterday, actually.” 

Her friendship with Paul was an unexpected one. Primarily arising from Aster’s loneliness in her senior year of high school, her plunge down in the social ladder after Ellie’s graduation and her broken engagement with Trig caused her to have no one to talk to in school. Not that it mattered, since she was always in a world of her own, but it was nice to have some company once in a while. Her initial relationship with Paul was one that was manufactured to fit an image they both desired at the time, but it’s different now. They’re more open to one another, more mature. The past four years created a friendship that Aster grows to cherish in a town filled with people she generally despises. 

“That’s great.” she squeaks back to him, and he is able to note that something seems off about her response, giving a tight nod that suggests he’s about to say something, but this tension quickly fades away. He changes the subject to a food critic in Seattle, grumbling about the note the writer made about the excessive use of oregano in his new sausage recipe.

Aster tries to submerge the swirling emotions that come with Paul’s previous words, pitted in the bottom of her stomach as she comes to a realization that perhaps  _ a few years  _ could possibly mean  _ never _ . 

Aster had too many art gigs in Los Angeles to allow Ellie’s schedule to coincide with hers. Paul would always slide in the fact Aster could come during winter and summer breaks to hang out with the two of them, but being in the art business meant that she had to jump at any chance she could in hopes that she could be provided a steady job after college. If she didn’t, there was a chance that her career could crumble into pieces and prove her disapproving father right that a career in art was destined for failure. She loved art too much to allow this belief to be proven true. But perhaps she was hiding behind the workaholic excuse because she was actually afraid of what to say to Ellie if she’d collide paths with her again. 

Sure, Aster could always reach out to Ellie using Ghost Messenger, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. That’s a closed chapter for the both of them. 

Aster is happy for Ellie. She really is. She feels as if she had known Ellie was something extraordinary far before they had formally met one another and is proud that the other girl isn’t afraid of expressing herself anymore. Wandering the empty school hallways early morning, Aster would often catch sight of Ellie improvising in the empty choir room, closing her eyes and feeling the notes in a way that Aster had never witnessed in a person before. 

Even her father had noticed the raw energy that Ellie had unknowingly harnessed and decided to use it for his advantage, perching the Heathen above the pews as the sounds of the hymns would dance to the tips of the chapel and ring harmoniously to the heavens above. Aster would try to catch sight of Ellie playing the church’s organ as she walked back to her pew after each communion service just to see the girl’s fingers dance on the keys effortlessly. 

Aster even watched Ellie’s numerous song covers and originals that Paul had mentioned were published on YouTube. Ellie looked different: not only physically—her hair now voluminous and provided a perfect wave that appealed to her facial structure—but mentally, too. She glows in a manner that suggests she’s happy with where she is now, like the glow of a new morning at the brink of dawn, serving as a new beginning for the other girl. It’s a good look on her, Aster thinks, and so does the rest of the internet apparently, with the amount of thirst comments at the bottom of these videos. 

Aster doesn’t acknowledge the love-sick hope that buzzes in the center of her chest, and a thought that flashes in her mind, actually considering to have a yearning desire of seeing Ellie again in the future. She’s quick to cast this away, and decides she doesn’t want to dream of seeing Ellie again, because if she does, Aster’s afraid that it’ll end up with her disappointed. 

Or worse: it might actually come true but come crashing down. 

…

Aster finds out that her and Ellie’s paths are still intertwined years later, even in the smallest threads possible. 

Now and then, she finds herself thinking about how free Ellie must be in the big city. How she might feel like she belongs by being in an environment where she can freely express herself for who she truly is. 

Aster longs for the same thing. She’s tired of being rooted to Hell-quamish. It’s time for a change. Bold strokes, right? 

“I’m going to New York.” she declares at the dinner table of the Flores home during the edge of her summer break. Her family stops in the midst of their conversation to pin their attention on the words that come out of Aster. She can feel the burning eyes of her father be the most concentrated one of them all, and gulps uneasily. 

Aster got a job proposal as an assistant art director of one of the big studios in New York: an offer that she’s been dying to receive after so many long drives to Los Angeles and the rest of the west coast to prove her artistic abilities. 

She’s been saving for the big move for the past year and a half, working extra hard in side hustles like bartending at the local restaurant near her place in Seattle and selling numerous art pieces for cheap but profitable prices. She’s blessed to be able to afford and consider such a huge transition, considering the fact that she was an art major graduate (though she is slightly broke according to her calculations). With all the hours she’s spent slaving for this opportunity, she decides the best thing to do now is take that jump towards the Big Apple and see what could await her there. 

(Ellie’s still there in NYC, Paul points out during a small drinking celebration they host with just the two of them. She simply takes a swig of vodka and says she doubts she’ll ever run into her since it’s a city filled with 8 million people. She won’t press her luck.) 

She’s ecstatic to move to NYC. Aster just doesn’t think her family might think the same. 

Her family has a mixed reaction to the news, faces exhibiting tight smiles that suggest they have other opinions about Aster, but she doesn’t stop from packing. She takes all the cheap art equipment stashed in all the tight crevices of her room, knowing that she’s got to take as much as possible since money will be tight in the first few months. 

The last of her items is packed into her small car and she decides this is the moment she wants to drop the bombshell of emotional baggage she’s had on her mind for years ever since Ellie has helped acknowledge that side of her that summer afternoon in Squahamish’s town square. 

“Also,” she begins, eyes glued to the pavement below. Aster feels as if gravity shoves down the weight of the words she has wished to scream out of her mouth for years. 

She clenches her fist with all her might, mustering all the strength she’s stashed and thoroughly hopes that this is the moment God has freed her from the belly of her big whale: this is a chance where she can breathe fresh air and show her true purpose in life. 

“I’m gay.” 

The radiating sting of her father’s palm colliding into her left cheek is felt throughout the car ride out of Squahamish. Tears blur her vision during the stops she makes at traffic lights. Crying for what exactly, she’s not sure. Perhaps it’s the fact that she’s been officially run away from Squahamish, away from her homophobic father, Trig, toxic white girls who peaked in high school, and her little sister and mom. 

They’ve discarded her like she was a piece of disappointing trash. Her car’s a bit scratched from the items her father tossed at her after she drove off from her home, but that’s fine. Given their strong Catholic and conservative background, she’s predicted that her family would have such an explosive reaction, but she’s still taken back by the way her father has expelled her from the rest of the family. 

_ Never come back _ , he screams at her in the front of everyone in the middle of the driveway along with a string of other profanities. She slams the door shut and drives off without saying goodbye. 

_ Gladly _ . Wet droplets still leak out of her eyelids at a fast rate as she realizes that this is an opportunity where she can truly be herself. Aster doesn’t have to hold back and conform to the hundreds of opinions that dictated her on what she should be. It’s all up to Aster now. 

The empty road feels like the soft sand that presses onto her feet when she first steps onto the beach, a sharp contrast to the harsh grounds she’s been exposed to in the past that prevent her from running freely. It’s a lightened weight on her heart and she can feel it resonate in the rest of her body. She feels as if she can move mountains as she opens her car windows to feel the cool breeze prickling her porcelain skin. 

She understands why Ellie never looked back when she kissed Aster that summer afternoon, her back being the last physical sight that Aster’s seen in the past six years. She feels like...herself, truly, and there would be no purpose to reflect on the past.

It’s a bold stroke that most certainly turned her life for the better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of warning but this story’s going to be a slow burn for sure. I find it interesting that a lot of fanfics lately claim that Aster was romantically attracted to Ellie from their initial interaction, but I don’t think that is the case. 
> 
> During a watch party and Q&A session with fans, a fan asked if Aster could be bisexual and the possibility of her being always attracted to girls and boys, especially Ellie. In response, Alice Wu had stated that she’s 17, and living in a conservative town doesn’t give her a chance to truly consider it. I can also relate to her level of inner confusion that she may experience in the end of the movie, because like her, I have grown up in a Catholic background. And honestly, growing up in this faith has been an absolute roller coaster for me. 
> 
> There’s a lot of aspects of my religion that bothers me a lot, so I thought I could put some of my feelings into Aster’s and Ellie’s character development. Hope you won’t mind. And let me know what you think about this too in the comments! I would love to talk about it with other people as well. I would appreciate it. 
> 
> As you can tell by my spiel, The Half of It will now remain in my heart as one of my favorite movies, primarily because I’m a sucker for motifs and hidden symbolism in pieces of literature and movies. Alice Wu, I hope you never stop hearing this from fans like us, but you are an absolute genius, man. Thanks for indirectly encouraging me to write again, and finally publish it


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to add this in the tags, but expect chapters to have alternating POVs. Will add this in the tags soon once I figure out how to do that, lol. Other than that, enjoy!

“You should post it on YouTube.” her roommate says one morning as Ellie watches her recording for the hundredth time that week. With the amount of times she’s inspected it, Ellie’s able to note that her strum pattern for the second pre-chorus is off, she stumbles on the beginning lines of the song, and her voice cracks at the chorus every time she reaches for the high note. Also, her riff is a bit too similar to a piece she’s composed before. 

One word can be used to describe the video: basic.

Even her high school senior recital was better than this video. Such a comparison makes Ellie instantly cringe at herself. 

“Post it?” Ellie says, flabbergasted. She snaps her head towards the other girl, who lays sprawled on Ellie’s side of the apartment, fiddling with the corners of Ellie’s Sylvia Plath poster with tips of her forefinger. The other girl hums absentmindlessly in response.

She and her roommates have become close friends since the moment they’ve moved onto campus. Both being people of color and newcomers to a city bigger than their small conservative hometowns, they can relate to the feelings of disconnection that can be experienced with these backgrounds and how overwhelming it can be to get all reigns let loose once you go into college. They spend a lot of time recalling food from their own cultures, and occasionally attempting to replicate it in their college’s shared kitchen area in their free time (though their collaborative cooking skills are subpar and end up with their RA scolding them on their burned food scraps). 

It provides solace in moments that Ellie feels homesick of life back at Squahamish, when she longs for the comforting presence of the people most important in her life, Paul and her father. Her roommate is a polar opposite to Ellie’s introverted persona, yet they fit so perfectly that they instantly click the moment they meet in their freshman dorm. Her roommate is annoyingly talkative, able to think of abstract conversation topics in a split second and providing Ellie no moment for some peace and quiet, but Ellie enjoys it, oddly enough. 

It’s honestly a weird experience to have another close friend other than Paul Munksy. It’s not that Ellie didn’t try to make friends in high school. It was just that she was too warped with things at home that she never got the chance to consider socializing with kids her age. With college now providing her time to explore, she has grown more comfortable with parts of herself that she often hid in plain sight by getting involved in specific student organizations. Her roommate often strings along to provide her company, and Ellie loves the friendship she’s built with her in the past three years. And sure, sometimes her roommate can be a little too blunt in her words, but Ellie likes it that way. 

Though, the apartment they’ve moved into since the start of their junior year now feels constrained by her roommate's presence. She finds her roommate’s words strike a personal subject that brings a sour taste in Ellie’s mouth due to the amount of times Ellie has spent pondering on it. However, her roommate takes Ellie’s piercing gaze as an indication to continue and says, “Well, I don’t think you can spend the rest of your life being the only one who's listened to your music.”

Ellie tries to inject her voice in the midst of the other girl’s argument, “I don’t think that—” 

“You filmed it for a reason, you know? You want it to be seen, whether you want to admit it or not.” Ellie clamps her mouth shut instantly and shifts her gaze to her rough hands. The crevices of her palm etch out where the miniscule scars earned from her worn-out biking travels began and where the raw wounds thickened the tips of broad fingers from plucking the steel core strings of her favorite guitar. “It’s amazing, and I think other people will think the same, too. You’re just nitpicking it so you can find reasons to not post it. But you know what, Ellie?” 

“What, Kelsey?” 

“Sometimes, you gotta take that leap and show others what you can do, you know? Show the world what you got in store for them.” Kelsey says, and Ellie could feel the smirk at the edge of those words. “Fuck them haters.” 

The words give her an eerie sense of déjà vu. The anxiety of putting yourself out there into the internet platform just feels much more permanent and intimidating for a bold stroke. It’s terrifying to wonder what critics could come out of it. 

_But you know what—screw it._

Ellie spins her chair back to scrutinize at the paused video on her screen one more time. She remembers the day in which she had filmed the video, only being less than two weeks ago when she had stumbled back from a late-night college party Kelsey had forced her to go to. A song blasting at the place caused her fingers to itch and experiment with a few chords of her own as she could already imagine the opening of her own song. Within hours, though hungover and slightly weak from sleep deprivation, she created a music piece. She was so damn proud of it at that time, she just had to film herself singing it. 

_But_ , she’s tired of letting fear prevent her from sharing her love for music at every single point of her life. Ellie drags the video file into Youtube’s dropbox to upload the file. It buffers a bit due to their university’s shitty wireless WiFi at this time of the day, but she manages to tweak the details of the post with the appropriate tags and slaps a title on top of it. It takes less than ten minutes to polish the final parts of the video before it’s ready to be seen by faceless strangers. 

“Okay, I’m going to upload it.” Ellie says with an air of finality. She clicks the _publish_ button and feels all tension instantly lift from her shoulders. “Better not regret this later.” she mutters at the end. 

“Yes! That’s the Ellie I would like to see!” Kelsey springs up from Ellie’s bed to hover over her shoulder and observe Ellie’s creation being released out into the wild sectors of the internet. She expects more clamor from the other girl as they both wait for the website to give the final prompt of approval, but it’s uncharastically quiet as the air in their apartment fills up in anticipation. Their eyes glue to the display. 

Then, once she’s able to go back to her YouTube homescreen, Kelsey claps her back soundly. “Proud of you, man. One of these days, we’re going to convince you to drop your EP, too.”

Just when Ellie thought they could act normal for a bit, Kelsey and Ellie are back to their normal banter. She lets out an exasperated groan as she begins to pack her laptop elsewhere to prevent her from rescinding the video, fiddling with other items on her desk. “How many times have I told you, Kels, don’t call it an EP! There’s a difference between EPs and demos! If you listened to our Music Improv Class maybe you’d know—”

“EP, _demo_ , tomato, _tomahto_.” Kelsey enunciates with a roll of the eyes. “I hated that bitchy professor, but you know my heart in the right place. I got your back.” 

Okay, Ellie would accept that. She smiles softly at those words despite it being too sappy for her taste. “Thanks, Kelsey.” she says. 

“But wait, speaking of your songwriting skills: I would like to meet Aster Flores. You’ve been talking to her, right?” 

Ellie stills in her movements, her hand hovering over her notebook which contains many poetic lines that have spurred her songwriting sessions. Despite everything assuring her the opposite, Kelsey speaks the truth, the name being one that is alluded in the bittersweet songs Ellie has molded, but it brings forth an image that Ellie’s tried hard to move on. 

For months, Ellie had scoured to find the most abstract literary devices and chord progressions possible that would bring forth an eternal image of the way Aster looked golden the last time she had seen her, sunkissed and breathless under Squahamish’s rays before Ellie pushed herself hundreds of miles away. Writing it was a way to express her pent up feelings for the other girl. For a while, at least. 

“Oh.” The words breathe out like she’s been caught in headlights in the midst of a dark road, once occupied by no one but herself. She doesn’t recall explicitly mentioning to Kelsey what happened with Aster Flores, but Ellie guesses that she hasn’t been too subtle about her past feelings for the other girl. Drunken nights with Kelsey in their dorm during their sophomore year ended up with Ellie revealing too many sober thoughts. She curses the reckless decisions that end up revealing her poor drinking skills. 

“That _is_ her, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s her, but I….” Ellie starts, but is unable to figure out how to finish the sentence. It’s a stark contrast for a person that can typically write about the most abstract topics in different perspectives at the drop of the hat. 

“O-oh,” Kelsey stutters, seeming to interpret Ellie’s lack of eloquence as a sign of a raid of intense emotion triggering a brain malfunction inside the poor girl. “You still haven’t reached out to her ever since. I thought you said that you would?”

Ellie rolls back into her desk chair, allowing her eyes to regard her bleak bedroom ceiling emptily. She slowly nods to confirm the other girl’s assumption, providing herself some time to spoon for words to say, “I did, but I don’t think now would be a good time to reach out to her anymore. Maybe in a few more years…?” 

“It’s already been like, what, three? Why hesitate? Do you think she forgot—”

“No, she wouldn’t forget.” Ellie snaps back, rising a bit from her chair. It feels as if a sword slashed the center of her heart at the thought of Aster viewing that moment as something insignificant. During high school, Ellie couldn’t count the numerous times she had thought about ending the whole letter situation with Paul and just blatantly confessing to Aster that it was all a lie. It became obvious how strong their feelings for one another had developed, but she was already in too deep, unable to easily pull from the tangled mess of lies. 

Both Aster’s confession at the spring and Ellie’s outburst at the church seemed like the climax of it all, with Ellie observing the other girl’s expression shatter into thousands of pieces and the sharp sting of Aster’s slap to Paul slamming into Ellie’s core. 

But despite Aster’s feelings for Ellie being proven valid on Squahamish’s roads, there was a sense of fear that Ellie could sense in their kiss, as they failed to define what exactly they were. And most importantly, what would be left of it? She distinctly remembers Paul’s disgusted reaction when she first admitted her feelings for the other girl. She couldn’t imagine the turmoil Aster must feel as a pastor’s daughter, where admitting such an attraction would invoke much more hysteria compared to an outsider of the church in Squahamish. 

In the corner of her eye, she sees Kelsey flinch at her sharp answer. “I just don’t think the time would be right.” Ellie adds at the end with flushed cheeks, trying to justify for herself. 

“And that’s totally fine, Ellie.” Kelsey says with her palms raised up. “Maybe just take baby steps to admitting this to her, even if it may seem like a sudden thing to say to her years from now. You’re right, a few more years might help you both and allow you to find parts of yourself you didn’t consider before.” 

Kelsey reaches out to her hand to gently squeeze it. Ellie sucks in a harsh breath at the touch, the air feeling like needles pricking the insides of her throat, making her feel a twinge of pain in her chest. “Yeah, baby steps.” Ellie echoes the words back. It rings the remnants of a promise she made in the middle of Squahamish’s empty road, a commitment she once strived to complete, but she’s not so sure anymore. 

After all, what if when they reunited, Ellie and Aster would find out they’re actually a lot more different? What would happen then? 

Ellie takes a deep breath to quickly dissolve the swirl of insecure thoughts that bubble inside her stomach. Screw posting a stupid music video on the internet: this gave her more of a headache to think about. She looks back down at her worn-out fingers, lightly brushing against the firm calluses. 

_One step at a time_ , she reminds herself. 

….

The video blows up. 

And when Ellie means it blows up, she means she wakes up to one fine summer morning to have Paul barge into her bedroom, shaking her incessantly and shoving a bright screen into her face. 

“Check your Twitter, Ellie! There’s something you gotta see!” he says. With his sudden burst of energy, Ellie begrudgingly reaches for her device at her bedside table. Her eyes strain to adjust to the blue screen as she opens up her Twitter app. 

“It better not be a funny meme that you retweeted, Paul. Or I swear I’ll—”

Her eyes widen at the number of notifications that blow up in the small bell icon in the corner of her dashboard. She’s used to receiving around 2 or 4 per week, having her mutual friends interact by liking or retweeting her self-promo for her music or personal tweets, but this is much different. Like a lot more different. A number that Ellie has never seen before: _30 thousand likes and 15 thousand retweets._

Ellie’s followers have increased by a landslide with the amount of mentions she gets from the post. She hasn’t felt this popular ever since she was known as the girl that almost burned down their dorm’s floor during Kelsey’s and Ellie’s freshman year (though Kelsey should’ve gone down in history for that infamy too since she had been involved in that incident). 

Below Ellie’s post of her most recent video is a thread starting with the following tweet: 

**_@annabrs_** This song is amazing @elliechu!! You guys should totally check out her music on Spotify as well! It’s amazing <3 

**@annabrs** @elliechu Check your DMs ;)

“Dude, _the_ Anna Bynes has reached out to you! Isn’t that awesome?” Paul exclaims. A grin stretches on Paul’s face from cheek to cheek as he grabs her shoulders to shake her viciously. She lets out a yelp as she loosely grabs onto her phone, still attempting to read the remaining bits of the Twitter thread. 

“Who?” Ellie asks. The name’s still not ringing a bell in her mind, but based upon the verified check mark near her username and number of retweets below her post, she assumes it’s a famous celebrity. 

“Anna Bynes? Like you haven’t heard of her?” Paul asks as he pulls away from her with a frown, to which Ellie slowly shakes her head. “She’s like the Billboard sweetheart of Miami! She’s collabed with a bunch of famous musicians that have made their tracks huge radio hits. And she’s super nice!'” 

“No, I’ve never heard of her.” Ellie’s never been good at keeping up with American pop culture. She never really had the time to listen to whatever was on the radio nowadays. She’s even surprised that Paul knows this kind of information, never once hearing him share his opinions on this subject before and assumed he was as out of tune with American celebrities as she was. After a pause, Ellie adds, “Paul, I didn’t even know you knew that much about music. You never talk so passionately about something other than sausages…”

“Oh,” Paul refrains for a moment, seeming awfully flustered all of a sudden. “I’ve been hanging out a bit with Rebecca that’s all. She just talks about a lot of artists she likes while we work out the logistics of the sausage business, so…”

A silence settles between them. Ellie blinks. 

“Rebecca Cooper? Like cheer team captain Rebecca ?” Ellie’s mouth gapes open, buffering the alarming amount of news that has slammed into her mind in the past two minutes. She never really saw the chemistry between Rebecca and Paul, both of them being total opposites in terms of personality in high school. Rebecca was a nice girl, nonetheless, though never one that struck her as a secret math genius, but she supposes that a lot of people have changed since high school. 

Paul’s normally the one that provides the girl advice, but it seems like Ellie has to say something now. She scrambles to find the proper words. “Wow, okay. Do you, like, _like_ her or some—”

Paul lets out a groan and wears an expression that seems as if he would prefer to be drowned by thousands of chocolate milkshakes than to say anything more. “Yeah, okay! I was going to talk to you about it later since you just came back from Grinnell. But enough about me, let’s go back to talking about your Twitter blowup.” 

Ellie shrugs and drops the subject. It could wait. She wasn’t that good with providing relationship advice, anyway. She looks back down at her phone again and slides it to access her direct messages. 

@ **_annabrs_ **Just wanted to personally tell you again how much i loved your cover! Loved the fingerstyle that you jazzed up in the beginning of the piece and the poetic way you have with your words! After seeing your video, I actually got the time to check out your channel and the songs that you posted on Spotify. They are amazing!! Words CANNOT describe how much I loved your Spotify songs, most especially. 

The whole paragraph feels uncannily surreal, never once receiving a compliment from an absolute stranger for her music. The only people she had got comments from were Kelsey, Paul, her father, and a handful of her other friends. Ellie frantically rubs her eyes, the act providing her a physical confirmation that this is real, before she scrambles to think of something to say back in response. 

**@elliechu** Wow, thank you so much!! I truly appreciate you giving me a shoutout on your Twitter. My songs are something that means a lot for me, so...it means a lot that you loved it as well. 

It doesn’t take long for Ellie to receive a response. After a mere ten seconds after pushing the _send_ button, she sees that Anna comes back online. 

**@annabrs** No need to thank me. Thank you for making this! :)) But, what I actually wanted to say at the end of my whole ramble was something different, but I didn’t want to seem too upfront...

@ **_annabrs_ **How does a trip to Miami sound? I’d be interested in writing a few pieces with you for my new album because I need a new outlook on its production. I think you have some skills that I would like to experiment with you, if you didn’t mind. 

Ellie can’t believe this. Her heart erratically pounds in her chest as a smile cracks upon her face, grinning almost maniacally. It feels as if gunpowder has been injected in her veins and she can feel the pure excitement rushing through every bit of her body. A spark of an opportunity that Ellie never saw coming is actually offered to her, now. 

“Paul, she’s asking me to come to Miami and write some songs with her.” Ellie stammers with wide eyes at the other man. Paul freezes for a moment, mirroring a similar expression of shock, before rushing forward in a tight hug. He squeezes Ellie and twirls her around, exclaiming words of encouragement while Ellie loudly laughs. 

It all seems too good to be true, though. 

A twinge of guilt is felt in the aftermath of their celebration and causes Ellie to pull back from Paul’s embrace. “I don’t know if I can actually go, though.” she says. “I mean, I just came home and I think Pa needs some help—” 

“Are you crazy, Ellie? Of course you should go! It’s a huge opportunity that you can’t deny. You’ve always wanted this.” Paul interrupts Ellie at the remains of her sentence. His gaze presses deep into Ellie’s, almost as if he is attempting to search for the hesitancy that reflects in her words. Paul’s been getting _too good_ at that lately, Ellie’s notices. He’s served as her personal cheerleader through a lot of her struggles in college, but she didn’t think that he'd be able to read through Ellie that easily. 

“Besides,” Paul continues and flashes a toothy grin. He gestures with a thumb pointing to himself. “Your dad and I have been living without you in Squahamish for a while now. A few more days wouldn’t hurt us! I’ve got you covered.” 

There’s no one else that Ellie would trust her father with other than Paul. He and her father had developed a rather adorable friendship while Ellie had been away, with the two of them bonding over their love for food by teaching each other their own personal recipes and fusing them together (it actually tastes good, too). It’s almost as if her father has adopted Paul as his son with the way they accompany one another in their weekly tasks, ranging from attending courses at the local community college to grocery shopping. 

It’s a sight that Ellie would’ve never expected to see when she started to become friends with Paul in high school, but she’s happy to see the most important people in her life enjoying their company together. And she supposes that a few days away from them wouldn’t hurt her either. After all, she knows that she’s going to later regret the chance to explore her passion for music. She can’t deny that this is a rare opportunity too special to reject. 

“Okay,” she finally relents, feigning a dejected tone. “I guess I’ll go.” Paul lets out a loud whoop as she opens her phone to respond to Anna Bynes’s message. 

@ **_elliechu_ **I’d be honored! Send me all the details and I’ll be sure to come. 

Within a few days or so, Anna prepares all the travel details and emails it to Ellie. She ends up anxiously eating a large pack of dumplings that her father stuffs into her backpack on the train ride to the airport. She’s never felt comfortable with the natural rush of airports, preferring the ambience inside the passenger seat of a train where everyone tends to seem to allow life to pass by quietly. People in airports are too noisy, always seen pressed about reaching their particular locations in accordance to their tight schedules. It’s nauseating. 

She finishes her food before arriving in the airport to avoid the grief of disposing of it in the trash. The rest of travel is a blur, from check-in to the landing at her destination. 

However, once she lands, Ellie’s left gaping at the staggering sight. 

Miami reminds her of a trip to Hainan Island that she and her parents shortly took before moving to the U.S. The uncanny, blue skies radiate an almost heavenly hue that reminds Ellie of her mother’s loving smile as they laid on China’s beaches and enjoyed the way the sand softly pressed into her skin. She softly smiles at the memory, closing her eyes for a moment to take in the faint taste of salt in the summer breeze, and exits the airport terminal. 

After dropping off her items at the hotel and taking a taxi to the studio, Ellie sends a quick airplane emoji to Paul, who responds with two thumbs up and a tropical drink emojis (👍👍🍹). She also snaps a quick picture of her current view to her college roommate Kelsey, who now is back in Philadelphia with her family for the break. She tends to respond similarly to Paul when it comes to emojis. Hers are just a lot more easier to decipher. 

**Ellie Chu:** Attachment: 1 Image

 **Kelsey Varkey** : 🤯🤯🤩🤩

 **Kelsey** **Varkey:** Ahhh, good luck Ellie!! U gotta tell me the full rundown of what happens at 11 PM SHARP TODAY sis!! 

**Ellie Chu:** Definitely. 

**Kelsey Varkey:** ohhh and don’t be shy to check out those beach babes 

**Kelsey Varkey:** Whatever floats your boat...if you know what I mean. 👀👀🚢🌴

Ellie rolls her eyes at the final text and stuffs her phone back into her baggy jeans. As the car slows down to a stop, she can see a figure leaning against the walls near the opening of the studio’s building. A woman wears baggy denim jeans with a tight crop top and checkered flannel. The reflective afternoon glare allows Ellie to only make out the colorful streaks of the woman’s blonde hair and the expensive sunglasses stuck on top of her head. 

Then, Ellie takes another second to further inspect the stranger, realizing that the woman outside matches the profile picture of the woman she’s been talking to for the past week, and quickly shoves a little extra than the total cost of travel to the taxi driver before exiting the vehicle. Florida traffic had already slowed down her travel by thirty minutes, so she felt bad for keeping the other woman waiting any longer. 

Walking closer, Ellie glanced over as the other woman turned to greet her with a hand shielding her face from the overbearing tropical sun. 

“Pleasure to finally meet you in person, Ellie Chu.” the blonde says while flashing a charming smile. Ellie smiles brightly in return, politely accepting the outstretched handshake. Only when Anna begins to motion her inside the building did Ellie take in the intense blue of her eyes, which takes her by surprise. “I’m really happy that you managed to come here on such short notice. You’re a college student so you’re on summer break right now, right? What school do you go to?” 

“Grinnell College. I’m a, _uh_ , junior, so I have one more year left.” Ellie replies back weakly, eyes darting towards the expensive interior features of the building. Shiny gold awards with famous artists’ names etched onto its labels hang against the walls of the small hallway **,** along with vinyl record covers and cassette tapes of hit tracks produced in the studio building. The front entrance alone contains enough to be more expensive than her college tuition, she notes. She gulps uneasily. 

“Ah, okay. I’m glad I ditched mine. I never could stand the conformity of it all.” Anna says with a drawn-out sigh, twiddling with a key in her jean pocket. She uses the object to open a door in the far corner of the long corridor, allowing Ellie to see the long array of blinking signs, instruments, and large monitors that lay inside of it. The lights in the control room are dimmed to make it seem like stepping stones towards the main center of focus of this small recording studio: the live room. Behind the glass panel that separates Anna and Ellie from entering it, a lone microphone stands, illuminated by bright lights as if it were a celestial pedestal for all eyes to observe. 

Ellie has never felt starstruck before, but today seems to change that. She bites her lip to prevent a loud gasp from escaping her lips. Everything seems so fancy, so surreal and official, that she can only comprehend that she’s actually here _now_. The equipment she used to record her music is a pile of trash compared to the priceless instruments in front of her. Being trapped inside this studio wouldn’t sound like a punishment to her, more like an idyllic dream. 

Using all her strength to drag her eyes away from the studio’s equipment, she glances back at the other woman, who wears a soft expression on her face. Ellie must have not been subtle in her attempt of reserving her child-like awe to the objects in this room. 

“Well, uh, college was my escape from my hometown.” Ellie says in what seems to be a prolonged pause in their conversation. She tries to make her tone light and as casual as possible. “It’s been pretty okay for me. People are nicer. More open.” Her hands hover the numerous buttons and dials that are used as effects for the finished mix. The metal feels cool and smooth against her fingertips. 

Ellie doesn’t know what has come upon her when words suddenly pour out of her mouth, “I’m sorry,” she starts. “But, I have to say this again: it’s really an honor to be able to work with you. I’ve never been in an actual studio before. My university offered a few recording studios on campus, but I was rarely able to use them for my songs. ” She realizes that she may have not thanked Anna enough for reaching out to her, knowing that not every hopeful musician is able to experience this rare opportunity. 

“And maybe this won’t be your last time, either.” Anna responds back, and Ellie can feel her heartbeat stutter at such a suggestion. She watches with wide eyes as Anna settles in the fabric seat nearest to the primary control panels. Anna gestures at the chair right next to her. “But let’s start to make sure that happens, shall well? It’s just going to be you and I for a bit before the rest of the crew arrives. And we have _a lot_ of work to do.”

Ellie nods eagerly. She can already tell that this is going to be interesting. 

In the following days, Ellie tells Kelsey and Paul about the hours she spends brainstorming with the other musicians in the recording studio. They jam out, scrap out snippets that sounded nice at first but don’t transition well with the rest of the track, and tweak the songs until they’re perceived to be perfect in everyone’s ears. She admires the hard work ethic the people in the studio have for the music pieces they create, and often takes inspiration from the tracks they’ve made together to work on some pieces she’s written into her songwriting journal in the quiet hours she spends by herself. 

Ellie’s also taken aback by the way the people in the studio remain attentive whenever she speaks her ideas. Their eyes remained focused on the way she tends to elaborately explain the song writing concepts she’s explored in the past and implementation of certain techniques from different music genres as a way to symbolize certain movements in the tracks. She feels proud that she’s retained and applied the knowledge she’s learned in her music classes in college. 

And Anna, most of all, is the one that builds up Ellie’s confidence in her skills as she takes in Ellie’s advice for ways she could adjust some of her pieces. They both learn from another. Anna attempts to share constructive criticism she had on Ellie’s demo on Spotify which Ellie takes to heart. It was fun to converse back and forth, constantly absorbing new information from one another. 

It reminds her of the times she and Aster had discussed their most favorite literature authors and philosophers. For hours, they had shared the bits that resonated the most in their lives, challenging the other to think differently about a certain event that might have symbolized something else. 

Though at first these conversations may have concerned their nerdy obsessions with books and other senseless topics, it felt as if they were sharing intimate parts of themselves, because Ellie always thought that every interpretation reflected the way a person perceived the world. She felt like she was getting closer to understanding the way Aster’s mind worked, despite their only source of connection was through a flimsy app. It just felt so natural and easy that Ellie couldn’t help and fall deeper into that mess of a situation. 

Feeling a strong pang in her heart as these thoughts pass her mind, Ellie tries not to spend too long reminiscing these past memories. 

When the tracks are finished, the group celebrates in the control room of the studio, guzzling down bottles of champagne and boxes of pepperoni pizza at two o’clock in the afternoon. Ellie tries to go light on the alcoholic beverages since her flight will be in the next five hours, but enjoys the heartwarming moment with the people she’s befriended in the short expanse of time. 

Once everyone leaves the confined room, Anna and her are left alone, packing up the last bits of their belongings before Ellie’s Uber comes to pick her up. They engage in small talk before Ellie feels a buzz in her jean pocket, alerting that her ride has arrived. She rises from where she sits and picks up her items, until she feels Anna’s fingers grasp her wrist. 

“You have a bright future ahead of you. I can feel it. I’ve DM-ed you a couple of other people you should try and reach out. Send your music to them and I’m sure you’ll get an instant response. I believe in you.” Anna says. The blonde reaches forward to press her lips softly on Ellie’s cheek, which instantly turns strawberry red at the contact. Curse her pale skin. Anna’s eyes glint with amusement as she slowly draws back, almost flirtatiously. “You're amazing, Ellie.” 

Anna winks before returning her focus on the large monitor in the center of the room. Flustered once again, Ellie takes that as her cue to leave and strides towards the exit of the room with flushed cheeks. 

“Wait.” 

Ellie’s hand stills on the door handle. She turns back to see the girl’s expression transition to a rather pensive one as she reclines back into the studio’s chair. From here, Ellie can see Anna’s knuckles turn white with the way she tightly grips the arm rest. 

“I have one piece of advice that you must always follow. Promise me that you’ll follow it, no matter what you do.”

The sharp tone emitted by Anna’s voice yanks Ellie’s attention to her. She hasn’t heard the other woman talk so seriously in the past few days that she’s known her. Ellie mutely nods, urging her to continue. 

“Don’t let them control who you are. Express you at your most raw state.”

These words end up in the back of Ellie’s mind years after her short visit to Miami, where she begins to process the true weight that the message holds. 

….

“Wear this, Ms. Chu.” 

Ellie opens her mouth to protest, but finds herself pierced with a nasty glare. “Just do it. It’s part of the dress code.” her agent grumbles. 

Wordlessly, Ellie finds herself taking the feathery masquerade mask that is shoved into her hands. The scratchy fabric makes her whole outfit seem like a confused ostrich. Its bright colors clash with the neutral toned pantsuit that Ellie wears for the event, but not in an appealing way. 

If she wasn’t already self-conscious with the attire she wears for this evening, she knows that she looks ridiculous with the way people’s eyes dart quickly in her direction as she enters the room. She’s just glad that the mask is at least doing its job of covering her face so no one could recognize her, too. 

Business parties tend to reveal the most unlikeable people in New York, she realizes a few months after signing a deal with a big record label in the city. People would tend to pool into these crowded events with the intent of “networking,” but end up bragging about themselves shameless to lift their already high egos. 

Ellie hates the formality of it all. Absolutely despises them, especially when they take place on days Ellie much rather spend in the quiet ambience of her apartment. 

It was a side of New York City that Ellie hated and wished she could avoid more often, but her boss had insisted that she go to the New Year’s Eve Party to celebrate the success of the most recent album from their record label. As one of the attributed singers, she hung around the production team for most of the night until the last hour before midnight. 

Soon enough, however, the place had become intolerable with the amount of bodies shoving into her own. 

She hastily yells an excuse about wanting to find the bathroom to one of the contributing artists for the album over pounding speakers before slipping out. The urge to rip off the stupid masquerade mask gets casted aside when Ellie prefers to have a fresh dose of air and space away from people. 

A dark hallway that Ellie ends up stumbling into served as an entrance to a rooftop connected to the party venue. Thankfully, no other person seems to have found this secret place so Ellie is finally left to relish the sight by herself. It’s a sight that’s breathtaking, she curses to herself. The beauty of the New York City skyline truly does shine best at night, and especially during New Year’s Eve. She can see small dots of people dance around the streets below, each part of their own worlds but seeming to love every second of it, for everyone’s figures are edging towards one thing: the Time Square Ball. 

For an object so profound to a nation, serving as a symbol of new beginnings to millions, it sure does seem small in comparison to the rest of New York. But even so, Ellie can see the way it sparkles in the moonlight, and she can begin to understand why it provides a twinge of hope to anyone who sees it. She only wishes she was able to be with her father so they could enjoy this moment together. 

“Anything difficult to say must be shouted from the rooftops.” 

Minutes later, a silvery voice announces its presence while Ellie perches on the edges of the building, letting her legs swing above the murky depths below. She had her eyes closed, allowing the metal railing to press into her chest and serve as the anchor for her dear life which could, in a quick slip-up, plunge down 20 stories in a blink of an eye. 

“Natalie Clifford Barney.” Ellie muses, impressed with the quote and the stranger’s forwardness. She turns to acknowledge the intruder by retracting from the edge and away from her cryptic thoughts. Emerging from the darkness, the stranger’s masquerade mask was the first that caught Ellie’s eye, adorned with sparkly gems that scattered the outskirts of the hazel orbs that glowed almost golden in the dim rooftop light. The woman wore a cherry red dress with decorative laces around her chest and had cut close to her mid-calf area. A look that was both casual but elegant, nonetheless. 

Ellie is floored at the sight. 

The woman hums quietly with lips that match the color of her dress. “Huh, didn’t expect to find a person who would actually recognize the quote here.” Ellie’s eyes watch every moment that she performs, noting that she pulls something hidden behind her back. “Care to drink while the year closes?” The brunette waves the bottles of beer with her arms outstretched towards Ellie.

“Were you planning to drink it by yourself?” Ellie stutters after a beat of silence, still processing that this woman is talking to her. She fumbles to have a firm grasp on a bottle after brushing hands with the stranger. The wet dew of the cool drink sticks into her palms. 

“The more the merrier, but I don’t mind sharing. I came here to enjoy my smuggled items.” the woman smirks. “But maybe I had some secrets to shout on this rooftop, too.” 

“Nothing too morbid, I hope?” 

“God, no. ” the other woman laughs softly. Her voice is like warm honey and contrasts with the rusty air conditioner that buzzes in the background. “They’re just heavy enough to drink away at this hour.” 

They both sit back down near the edge of the building to gape at the sight once again. A distance close enough to experience the same heart-palpitating emotions, but far enough to prevent them from plummeting hundreds of feet below. Ellie watches as the stranger stretches her legs near the building’s fringes, seeming to observe the way the air currents float the tips of her dress.

Ellie’s skeptical with the motives that the other may have. She’s already struck countless conversations with people she hasn’t met before the party today, and none ended up well. “And you’d be willing to be able to drink them away with a stranger?” she asks. 

“Stranger seems harsh,” The woman’s eyebrows scrunch downwards like a child whose candy was stolen from their possession. “My drink was a peace offering for us to get comfortable with one another, and it seems to be working since we’re talking right now. I’d say we’re loose acquaintances.” 

“I don’t even know your name.” Ellie points out, waving the rim of the bottle towards the figure. 

“The mask makes me want to keep with the party theme.” the person says with a wink. She has an air of nonchalance with the way she talks. Light and playful, most likely due to her smelling strongly like fruity cocktails rather than the light beer they drink. She tilts her head to the side as she continues, “How about we keep our names a mystery, just for a while?” 

Ellie finds herself rolling her eyes at the stranger’s corny proposal, “Doesn’t make your argument on us not being strangers any more convincing.” Ellie almost forgot that she was still wearing the stupid flamingo mask now, far too invested in finding a hiding spot and talking to this stranger for the past thirty minutes. 

“Well, we’re at this party together, so we have something in common that caused our lives to be intertwined.” the woman protests, acting as if that should serve as solid evidence. 

“Maybe,” Ellie drawls out while tapping the glass rhythmically. The air feels kind of different on this rooftop, she has to admit, so perhaps she’s not really opposed to the idea of lives being intertwined. It would be good to believe in a couple of things at this hour, after all. 

And strangely enough, Ellie soon appreciates the company of the woman. 

It’s annoying at first, but the woman sure helps the time spent at the party speed faster as the year comes to end. Their conversation doesn't strike a personal chord that may “reveal their identities” as the other put it, until a certain question catches Ellie off guard. 

“You sure we haven’t met before?” the stranger asks after Ellie shifts the topic and shares her thoughts on the city. “Your voice sounds too familiar. I bet I’ve heard your song on the radio before.” 

Ellie almost feels offended when her cover’s been blown. “How do you know that I'm a musician?” she scoffs. She’s finally begun to enjoy the secrecy in the conversations between the two of them. “I could’ve been another influencer that got tagged along to this party.” 

“No, you could never fit that persona.” The stranger laughs. “Musicians have a certain edgy look in their eyes. It matches a lot of people I’ve seen at this party, but yours scream something... _different_.” 

The stranger says it in a tone that makes Ellie’s stomach churn. She can’t decipher why. She can only tell that the woman’s lips look really sparkly with the way the city’s lights reflect on it. 

“Don’t know if that’s a compliment or insult since there’s a lot of hotshots in this party.” Ellie says, her voice shaky. She’s been in the spotlight numerous times since she started performing her music. All eyes pressed upon hers, scrutinizing every one of her moves, but it feels more intimidating to have this stare look deeply into hers. 

“It’s a good thing, don’t worry, or else I would’ve made a run towards Time Square with my bottles of beer because I can’t stand anyone else here.” the stranger answers honestly. “I think yours is a bit more deeper than the rest. It's intriguing.” Ellie’s only begun to process that the woman has slowly lessened the distance between the two of them, scooting closer as she talks. 

“Gotcha,” Ellie gulps uneasily, trying to soothe the way her heart pounds against her chest with the cool liquid drizzles down her throat. 

“But are you sure we haven’t met before?” The woman echoes again, this time with a smirk. 

“Perhaps you’ve heard a different song on the radio. They blast all sorts of songs here. Mine isn’t one of them, though.” Ellie denies while darting her eyes towards the view in front of them, and then back at the woman again. She tries to ease her nerves as she stumbles to find a way to justify the situation. “I’ve doubt we’ve met. It’s a big city.” 

“Huh,” The woman slowly lifts her lips to the glass bottle, her gaze still fixated on Ellie. The frothy liquid swishes in its container. “Just feels a little familiar for my taste.” 

“Maybe it’s the alcohol.” Ellie suggests, eyebrows arching when she observes the way the woman adjusts the way she sits. The gravel crunches under her movements. 

“Maybe,” the stranger shrugs, her shoulder bumping into Ellie’s bicep. She lazily raises the bottle close to her squinted eyes to read its inscription. Ellie laughs at the way the stranger’s face scrunches up. “They chose a rather cheap brand for the beer tonight. It tastes nasty. I swear I can find this in the convenience store near my apartment.” 

Minutes later, the noise from the party venue below ramps up in volume, serving as a sign that the big moment is rising to its absolute peak. She can feel the crowds of people buzzing below them and the atmosphere begin to rapidly rise in anticipation as they begin to clump together. In the corner of her eye, Ellie sees the other woman shift her gaze to her.

“Do you believe in New Year Resolutions?” 

“I think the New Year just serves as an excuse for people to change. Not many people follow through, but,” Ellie says, casting another glance at the metal structure in the distance. One more minute. She takes another courageous sip of her beer. “It’s still a chance for new beginnings and possibilities.” 

“How about New Year’s kisses, stranger? Do you believe in that?” The other woman’s voice is teasing, but the captive eye contact she has on Ellie’s suggests the opposite. 

Ellie swallows hard, locking into the intense orbs filled with a mix of desire and curiosity. “Oh—d-do you mean…?” 

“I mean I want to kiss you,” the other woman repeats with a husky voice. She edges closer to Ellie, trying to gauge for any sign of doubt in her face. Her fingers softly brush Ellie’s knuckles. “And plus, there seems to be no one else that I would like to do this on the rooftop, so.” she nervously chuckles at the end, darting at the rest of the empty area around them. The sound eases the tension between the two as Ellie cracks a small smile.

“I—”

Ellie becomes hyper-aware of how convincing the other woman’s lips seem, luring her with the way it softly parts open. The other woman waits patiently for a response. 

New beginnings, right? Ellie could use a new start right now. 

“— _ah, fuck it_ ,” Ellie says through the loud clamor. “ _Yes_.” The final digits of the countdown echo in their ears and she lunges forward to meet the other woman in the middle. 

There’s a shy nature in the way they clumsily collide. Their lips brush against each other tenderly, experimenting with the new yet strangely familiar feelings they arise from one another. Slowly, they begin to ease into the flow as Ellie’s hand catches the nape of the other woman’s neck to press forward. 

Horns blare below to announce a new start for the world, and it helps mute out the way Ellie’s heart pounds against her chest. The pace of the kiss picks up. She feels as the other woman tug at her lower lip, her tongue sweeping into Ellie’s mouth. The hunger is insatiable, unable to be numbed by the strongest of alcoholic drinks. Her whole body buzzes in delight as they pull closer to one another. 

“Wow,” Ellie could feel the stranger’s pair of lips quirk upward against hers when the blaring music that announced the start of the new year in the streets below began to dim down to a minute buzz in their ears. “Think you can remove your mask? Or a name, perhaps? The anonymity of this stolen kiss is killing me.” the other girl quips, her fingertips brushing against the fabric strap wounded on the back of Ellie’s head. Her breath hitches at the feathery touch. 

“Not sure if I can follow,” Ellie cheekily teases back as she mimics the same action on the stranger. “Weren’t you the one that suggested keeping this a mystery?” 

Ellie doesn’t know how she’d sprung to be this flirtatious in this makeout session, or in this conversation in general, because she knows her sober self wouldn’t be this headstrong with an absolute stranger. But, nonetheless, she feels encouraged by the way her heart flutters in delight as the other girl’s laugh vibrates inside her mouth. She grasps at a way to continue this alluding attraction she had with this stranger as they aimlessly kissed, doing small pecks to allow them to soak it all in. 

“Screw it,” the woman murmurs back with a soft sigh. Ellie can’t help but agree. Right now, drunk and warm against the body pressed upon hers, Ellie feels as if there’s no need to follow stupid party attire. It was just a flimsy rule they made to keep the conversation going, right? The temptation is just too strong to ignore now. She’s got to know who this person is. 

But Ellie prods on the joke, just for her personal entertainment. “I don’t know if I can trust you, stranger. You’ll have to promise to do the same if I reveal my secret identity to you.” 

“Okay, _fine_.” the other girl chuckles once again, finally scooting away and standing to give themselves enough space. The brown eyes twinkle in the city lights in a way that makes Ellie silently gape at the sight, her mind already attempting to draw a face that could hide behind the covering. “How about this: we’ll do a countdown of our own. From three.” 

“Three.” Ellie starts with a firm nod, eager to see what may come out of this. She reaches to grasp the flimsy plastic mask. 

“Two.” the other girl continues as they both close their eyes, the air inside their lungs sealed shut in apprehension for the big reveal.

_“One!”_

The words are uttered by the both of them, and the masks promptly snap off. Ellie can see that they quickly get carried by the wind, flying off the edge of the building, but she doesn’t pay attention to that. Rather, she found herself gasping loudly at the object of her captivation. 

_“Ellie.”_

...Out of all the girls she could’ve met, she’s the girl Ellie just kissed.

Wow. 

The world sure had a crude way of playing with Ellie. Aster’s eyes are as wide as saucers, and Ellie figured that she mirrors a similar expression at the moment, too. It’s as if all sexual attraction experienced in the past five minutes have instantly disappeared from both of their minds, far too invested in the awe-filled staredown as they see reflections of their scared, high school selves flashing in front of them. 

Ellie licks her lips involuntarily in her drunken haze, which wasn’t a good idea because Aster’s eyes flicker down to watch that following action. Perhaps they needed to be both a little more sober to have an adult conversation about what just happened. 

So, with a tight grin, Ellie decides to take the bold move. 

“It’s been a couple of years, hasn’t it?”

…..

They share a bowl of ice cream together at one o’clock in the morning on January 1st, 2027. 

Ellie had awkwardly suggested that they would get out of the party to talk, coming to a stark realization of where they were at the end of their short reunion. A change in location would prevent Ellie from flinging herself off the rooftop in embarrassment, she told herself, and Aster seemed to instantly agree to that suggestion, nodding and muttering something about knowing a place they could crash for a bit. 

Ellie didn’t question it, blindly following the girl as she led them through the city that never sleeps, now filled with the incoming traffic of drunks fleeing from Time Square, giggling and spluttering nonsense to their loved ones. Aster has a tight grip on Ellie’s hand, interwinding their fingers so that they are latched together, as if to make sure Ellie wasn’t going to bolt away and escape into the night.

They’re together— _not in that way, dumbass_ , she thinks—again. Everything in this moment just feels strangely vivid as Aster’s fingertips anchor herself to reality. 

The doorbell chimes to announce their arrival in the small creamery (why was it open now above all days, Ellie wasn’t sure about that, either) that sat two blocks away from the party venue. A lanky man with black curly hair seems to recognize Aster, already preparing several scoops enough for the two of them without a comment exchanged between them. He’s not fazed by the odd hour of their arrival and their more-than-casual clothing choices. Aster slides a ten dollar bill to the man with a small smile once the order is finished, and settles down in a booth for the both of them. 

The strawberry aftertaste of the Neapolitan ice cream reminds her of the fruity tang of Aster’s lips when they kissed, but Ellie gulps that thought down with a cold glass of water. Despite Aster’s forwardness to find a place to settle down and talk, she seems to be suffering from the same internal conflict, avoiding eye contact from Ellie for the past ten minutes as her gaze has been fixated on an energetic group of college students at the other side of the ice cream parlor. 

“Let me tell you something,” a tipsy girl says to one of her friends in a loud whisper, acting as if it was forbidden knowledge though the ice cream parlor was practically empty and eerily silent: a silence so odd that the place turns into an acoustic stadium for anyone who spoke. The friend group leans in to hear what she had to say like she was this wise prophet, scrapping their chairs closer with their legs rather than their hands since they lack the proper eye coordination to do so. 

The blue-haired drunk girl continues by stretching her hands out dramatically. “Ice cream is a figurative representation of dictatorship because whatever you add to ice cream essentially becomes a flavor. It does not change into another type of food. Like, if you add some rocks to ice cream, it becomes rocky road ice cream—”

“—that’s not how you make the flavor, Sara—” a boy pipes in with an exasperated groan. 

“—but it doesn’t change into another food! Anything you add to ice cream is essentially a flavor, an addition to their ever-expanding empire! And should we allow them to take over the food industry?” she pauses for dramatic effect, propping up her leg onto the table they sat at. 

A beat of silence follows, with all eyes in the room waiting for an answer. 

The blue-haired girl smirks and raises up her metal spoon valiantly. “I think yes! Rocks or not, it’s delicious!” she exclaims, ushering a round of sighs and uncontrolled laughter after her epiphany. 

Aster definitely thinks the interaction is entertaining as she begins to giggle through her nose, letting out an adorable snort before attempting to hide it behind her hand. Ellie thinks she could bask in the silence between the two of them, content if this was the only form of interaction she could get from the other girl. 

Ellie has also noticed a quirky thing about Aster when they both eat the Neapolitan ice cream in silence: she saves the chocolate bits for last. Aster has gently carved out flavor as she delves into her side of the bowl, casting it out to the side before eating the strawberry first, and then the vanilla. And the chocolate would stay in a different sector, waiting to be savoured at the end. 

“Not that I have a stance with the political agenda of ice cream,” Aster begins after a few minutes. She wears a mischievous smirk and distances herself from her half-melted chocolate chunks. “But my abuela used to say that chocolate understands, despite how sad or happy you may be.” she says. “It provides a strange sense of comfort for you. That’s how I usually cope.” 

Ellie quirks an eyebrow at the final statement, causing Aster to continue, who immediately flushes at the other girl’s confusion. Her eyes dart to the paper bowl in front of them. “I’m, _uh_ , kind of nervous right now in front of you, but I blame the alcohol for messing with my nerves and appetite.” she rambles with a slight grimace. Aster then motioned to the tall cashier man who gave them ice cream earlier. “Mason over there tends to see me here whenever I have a huge art deadline to meet and I lack the motivation. Not this early in the morning, but I guess this is an exception. Hope you didn’t mind the flavor. It’s more of a mix of my favorites.” 

“I didn’t.” says Ellie, with a light blush crossing her cheeks. She could care less about the food they were eating. Hell, she could eat a meatball coated with the hottest peppers and lit on fire and she’d still put it in her mouth if Aster asked to do that at this moment. Six years later, and she seems to still be easily put under the hypnotic spell that is Aster Flores, fumbling with words and forgetting how to breathe. Cardiac arrest would be a perfect option right now rather than having to deal with a rush of emotions now rising from the pits of her stomach. 

“You haven’t touched much of the chocolate either, Ellie.” Aster amusingly points out Ellie’s half-eaten ice cream as she resumes to finish the rest of her milky leftovers. “I think it’s fair to say that we both need it.” 

Ellie complies, popping a combo of chocolate and strawberry into her mouth as she watches Aster. Despite the lighthearted tone she carries in her voice, Aster seems to be walking on eggshells by the way she retracts her body into her corner of the booth. She fiddles with the tips of her hair and tucks it behind her ear. 

However, courage presses her forward to say something— _something_ that might break the barrier of small talk after years of absolute silence. Ellie finally relents towards these urges and asks, “How long have you been here in New York, Aster?” 

Aster’s eyes widen. “Umm, about six months?” she says with a slow swallow. “I got a job as assistant art director in a studio in Brooklyn. Just been trying to get familiar with the city during the winter season since I have nothing better to do.” 

The other girl begins to explain to Ellie what she’s currently been up to, assisting in her company’s latest issue of digital arts. From a high school junior that doubted her art skills to now actually having a career as an artist, Ellie’s awfully proud of what the girl has managed to accomplish. It’s a stark difference to the girl that was hesitant about her abstract paintings years ago. 

Ellie, however, notes that Aster deliberately skips over describing her normal family traditions and plans that come with the holiday season. It seems odd, considering that she remembers Aster having her family from out of state come over during the winter season, filling up the small pews in the front to listen to Deacon Flores’s Christmas homily. They would be the center of gossip in the town as Ellie would hear the updated news on each relative. Everyone in Squahamish was shamelessly in close proximity to all of the Flores's personal business as if it were their own. 

Ellie decides not to press any questions about it, sensing it to be a touchy subject for the both of them at this hour. 

“—and I got into the party because a team in our department had assisted with some of the decorations in the venue, so they had invited us to enjoy the party. I didn’t really know it was hosted by a famous record label until a few hours ago.” Aster ends her long-winded explanation with a voice that fades at the final bits of the story.

She coughs awkwardly when she makes solid eye contact with Ellie, patting her face with one of the ice cream parlor’s napkins. “Anyhow, enough about me.” she says, attempting to deflect the conversation back to Ellie. “What about you, Ms. Songwriter? Paul told me about your rise to YouTube and to the big city. I’m sure that you have a big story to tell. I’d always thought that you’d be a big journalist with your—” 

Aster’s lip awkwardly twists at the end of the sentence, freezing them both in their seats momentarily. She manages to make a quick recovery before Ellie can freak out. The brunette waves her hand in the air as if the gesture is supposed to fill in the space of her silence. “—you know, letters. You were pretty eloquent with your words, so.” she says with her cheeks tinting a soft pink. 

A pause. “Why, never thought I had the _edgy_ look for it? I thought you said that I did.” Ellie jokes, attempting to lift the mood as she raises her brow. 

“Yes, of course I did!” Aster straightens, eyes widening at the reference from their conversation at the rooftop. Her habit of rambling seems to be one of things that hasn’t changed, despite their years apart. Ellie’s stomach churns at the sight. “I-I mean, I always thought you were a great musician, but I was just—” 

“It’s alright, I’m just joking. You’re right, though.” Ellie nods with an amused tone, not wanting to make the girl even more flustered with her teasing remarks. She’s used to receiving questions like this from her friends in college, after all. “I actually entered Grinnell as an English major, and intended to become a journalist, but music was something that I always pursued as well. My mother was actually the one that taught me how to play the piano. She started teaching me how to play with both hands when we moved to the U.S. And then she gave me my guitar shortly before she was diagnosed.” Ellie smiles softly at the past memories of her late mother that flash in her mind, remembering the way her hands would guide Ellie’s fingertips on the correct notes when playing through simple etudes.

She continues with a sigh, “It was hard to continue playing music after she passed, but I realized that if I forgot how to play instruments like the guitar and piano, I would forget parts of her.” she says. She can feel Aster patiently waiting for her to finish her story, attentively placing her focus on Ellie with her brown orbs. “Music made me realize that some things can stay immortal, you know? The emotion and the memories are forever sealed in its lyrics, and you can make connections with people you don’t even know. There’s just something so intimate about it that I just felt like I could combine my passions for writing and music into this career, and I ran with it.” 

“Wow,” Aster breathes out after Ellie finishes. She wears an awed expression on her face, looking at Ellie as if she’s effortlessly lifted up a ten ton weight over her shoulders. “And you ran all the way to New York?” 

“Well, it wasn’t something I planned to do initially.” Ellie blushes as she can feel Aster’s intent eyes observe her closely. “Honestly, I’m as surprised as you are that I’ve made it this far. A good friend of mine in Grinnell encouraged me to send my YouTube videos and it kind of escalated from there. I’ve really learned a lot from the people I work with at the studio so I’m always absorbing new things. It’s been really crazy.” 

“But?” Aster suddenly interjects. 

“What do you mean by that?” Ellie falters, confused. Ellie watches as Aster cocks her head to the side in a way that suggests that she knows something that Ellie doesn’t. 

“It just sounds like there’s more to that story.” 

“There isn’t much of a story beyond those words.” 

Aster shrugs, not seeming to want to press any more remarks. The way the brunette picks at the paper bowl just makes Ellie slightly squirm in her seat, until her brain connects the dots to what Aster must be referring to. She groans. Perhaps Ellie wasn't that good behind hiding her mask on the party venue’s rooftop as she thought she was, obviously displaying a slight distaste to her record label during their conversation earlier. 

“Umm, okay. Maybe I wasn’t honest about my job.” Ellie relents. Suddenly her pantsuit feels more itchy than before. Ellie tugs at the seams of her outfit. “I just don’t have as much _creative abilities_ as I thought I would. It’s been hard to get approval for some of the track sets I’ve created. But I still get the paycheck, so I shouldn’t be complaining.” 

It’s true. She’s been warned that the music industry is rough, and they certainly weren’t lying about it. Everything just seemed so perfect at first when she moved to the city. Her agent wasn’t as much of a bitch, Ellie was able to produce some enjoyable tracks with some people at her studio, and she thought that things were going in the correct direction. 

But suddenly, all that seemed to change around September, when her team began taking longer to approve and organize events for her. Everything seems off. It’s almost as if they didn’t view her as a priority anymore, and she’s just an object with a very cheap price tag. She’s not as successful as the label thought she’d be. It makes Ellie terribly frustrated even though she hasn’t admitted this to anyone yet. Even Paul, who’d probably understand with the roller coaster of events that had occurred with his sausage business. 

She’s just...scared. What if this contract was a complete joke? What then? 

“I don’t think so,” Aster starts to say, bringing Ellie out of her thoughts. “But I remember a woman telling me something about this year being a chance for new beginnings. She told me something about risking it all for a bold stroke, too.” Ellie sees the way Aster’s gaze pierces through her soul from the other side of the table, similar to the way it did on the rooftop just an hour ago. She feels like the air from her lungs has magically escaped, similar to the way her 18 year old self would just cease all brain function from a mere glance from Aster. Her soft smile gives Ellie an ounce of courage. “Perhaps you’ll see something different this year, Ellie. I believe you’ll be able to push through.” 

“Yeah, I guess we’ll see.” Ellie murmurs back. She’s truly taken back by the sincerity of the words, but a pang in her heart says that she hopes that this may symbolize a new beginning for something else. 

After tossing their paper cup and plastic utensils in the disposal, they awkwardly hover at the front of the ice cream parlor, not knowing what should be the next proper thing to say. 

“Well, uh— _shit_.” Ellie idly looks down at her phone to pass time before realizing it’s out of charge. “There goes my Uber.” she mutters. There’s no way she can get home now. Before she can figure out what to do next, however, she feels Aster’s hands slip into hers. 

“Stay with me for the night. I don’t live that far away from here, either.” Aster says with pleading eyes. She squeezes Ellie’s hand so gently and— _oh_ , Ellie can feel her bones turn into absolute goo. “I wouldn’t want you to wander back home at this hour, much less with a dead phone. You could get kidnapped. O-Or murdered.” Aster seems to cringe inwardly at the crude joke she spews out at the end, blushing widely. “I didn’t mean it like that.” she backpedals. 

Ellie’s brain short circuits at the offer. “Oh, like tonight?” Ellie dumbly responds with Aster blinking back at her. God, just when Ellie thinks she’s outgrown that phase Aster sure manages to cast it back out once again. She quickly corrects herself and attempts to play it off. She coughs awkwardly, “I mean, uh, are you sure I could trust a stranger like you?” 

Aster’s anxious expression dissolves, cracking a smile at those words. A beautiful laugh emits from her lips and her forefinger brushes against Ellie’s thumb. Ellie wishes to etch this sight in her brain forever. “Believe it or not, I wouldn’t want that to happen to you, Heathen. We only wish the best for all, especially on New Years. You can trust me.” 

The old nickname knots the insides of her stomach, and Ellie feels like she has no choice but to agree. She had promised Paul that she wouldn’t do anything reckless in New York City, knowing that there could be countless unknown dangers that could be presented to her if she decides to wander off in the night. 

(And considering the stranger circumstances of tonight, she’s not sure she wants to let go of Aster. But Ellie’s not ready for the conversation.) 

And so, half-sober and drowsy, they walk to Aster’s place. It’s a walk that is short and silent between the both of them. Aster fumbles with her keys in the inky darkness when they approach her entrance. She insists that she has a pop-out bed on her couch and gives her regular bed to Ellie to crash in for the night. Thank goddess, because Ellie wouldn’t know if she could get an ounce of sleep if they shared a bed—she’s far too exhausted to argue against the options. 

“Happy New Year, Ellie.” Aster says as she closes the night (or early morning, technically) with a soft smile after Ellie changes into a pair of Aster’s clothing that is much more comfortable to sleep in. It has a faint citrus-like aroma that matches the perfume that Aster wore during the party. 

It’s easy for Ellie to doze off that night, despite the pounding headache in her temples. She ends up dreaming of the stars. She can feel the fiery orbs at edge of her fingertips as she floats endlessly into the abyss with a pair of familiar eyes feeling so close, yet light years away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And....they've reunited! Definitely in a rather odd way, though. 
> 
> A loooong chapter compared to the prior one. I just wanted to start their interaction right off the bat because there's a lot of drama to come. :)) Expect some flashbacks to fill in the details on what's occurred before their travels to NYC, but we'll be primarily focusing on what will have next in present time. 
> 
> Please excuse the typos if you noticed any because I tried re-reading it as much as possible. My head's just killing me right now, lol.


End file.
